


Truth or Dare

by kscribbles



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Slash, Truth or Dare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:55:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Wired after a 'stake out' Charley and Peter return to his penthouse and start up a game of Truth or Dare! Conversation gets more challenging, absurd and sexual, as these things do especially with a cocky Vincent in the room and 'stuff' develops from there!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth or Dare

**Author's Note:**

> There's no actual game of Truth or Dare here. I tried that and it failed. *shrug* My bad. Written for the lj community FrightNight2011's kinkmeme: http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html

Neither Peter nor Charley wanted to go to sleep. They were too wired with the adrenaline and relief of the latest vampire threat turned to dust. They’d been up all night planning, and half the morning killing, and now, with it just gone mid-day, they were in Peter’s sitting room, drinking in the sunlight. It was increasingly becoming tradition. A toast to their lives and health would become a few more toasts and a few more secrets revealed, until Peter felt Charley knew him better than anyone ever had. But there were still some topics they skirted, things that were almost, but not quite ever said. Peter was getting frustrated.

And with exhaustion and the almost constant pulse of arousal that thrummed through him these days when he was around Charley both pulling at him, today Peter found the courage to just come out with it. It wasn’t, he’d note in later retrospection, his most suave seduction, but then, he hadn’t had to seduce anyone in ages.

“Tell me the truth, Charley,” Peter said, forcing his voice to remain only curious and neutral. “You fancy me a little bit, don't you?”

Charley looked up from the drink he’d been contemplating. “I what?” he asked with a little squeak, apparently trying and failing to sound just as neutral. “I don't know what you're talking about. I don't get…” He waved a hand vaguely in the air, “… your weird Britishisms.”

Peter sighed. He’d been hoping Charley would have just said ‘Yes! Thank you for FINALLY noticing’ and then… jumped him or something. But no, they’d have to have this out.

“You know exactly what I'm talking about,” Peter said, fixing Charley with a pointed stare. “You’ve been around me long enough, and fuck knows you watch enough crap British telly to have picked up the lingo, so don't play dumb. Tell me,” he said carefully and deliberately, “and we can do something about it. The truth.”

Charley looked flushed, his mouth hanging open a little in shock. He was intrigued, Peter knew, but still, the kid looked distinctly uncomfortable. Quietly, Charley asked, “Can I pick dare?”

A small measure of triumph surged through Peter. That was definitely an admission of sorts, but it wasn’t enough. Time to drive this home. Put it to bed, so to speak. He smiled, and his stare turned into a leer.

“Oh, so we're playing a game now? Because I could think of some dares that would make whores blush.”

 _Charley_ ’s blush deepened. He unconsciously licked his lips. “No dude, it's cool. I haven’t played Truth Or Dare since…” he trailed off. “Maybe I should just...”

Charley looked both like he was about to bolt AND maybe like he was about to jump Peter. Well, he’d help him make up his mind, then. Peter stood and whipped off his shirt.

Charley’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open. And there. There was the _unmistakable_ look of hunger in him that the younger man couldn’t hide. “What…? What are you doing?”

“Taking off my clothes,” Peter said, hopping out of his trousers, like it was completely normal to be disrobing in front of one’s best friend. “Then I'm going to bed.”

“Oh. Um. Should I go then?” Charley asked uneasily.

“Don’t be an idiot, Charley. What you _should_ do is join me.”

“I don’t… I mean. I’m not…” He laughed, nervously.

“Of course you’re not.” Peter removed his last item of clothing.

Charley stared, boldly, then he took a gulp from his drink. “Is that your dare?”

“You’d like that? An excuse,” Peter said, not liking the bitterness in his own voice. He should have more patience for a young one’s sexual identity crisis, but he was having trouble seeing why any of that mattered. Hadn’t they faced death together an hour ago? Any time they fucked _any_ one could be the last time. “Fine, _I dare you._ If you join me, we might have the best sex you've ever had. If you don't, I suppose I'll go to sleep. Either way, I'm done playing games, I think.”

Peter left then for his bedroom, leaving Charley staring after him. He may have just fucked everything up, or he may have changed nothing, or maybe, _hopefully_ , he’d changed everything, tipping some imaginary scale that just needed a little nudge. Peter slipped naked between his cool sheets and tried not to count the seconds.

* * *

Damn him. Why’d he have to give him a choice? Why couldn’t Peter have just slammed his drink on the table, walked up, grabbed him by the hair and _snogged_ the life out of him? Now he had to sit here and _decide_ to go. Into Peter’s bedroom. Where Peter was, in bed, and very, very naked. With just a flash of the other man’s body, and a challenge issued, Charley was embarrassingly hard already. It would seem part of him, at least, wasn’t indecisive at all.

Charley found himself slowly toeing off his shoes. He could, he thought, go home and forget this. Or he could go in there and… _Best. Sex. Ever._ Peter had said? Well Charley had had some pretty good sex. First with Amy, and then a couple times with that chick Molly from his Western Civ class after Amy moved away. So Peter's statement was, like everything else about him, pretty bold. Though Charley would be lying if he said he'd never thought about it (He had. Often and in a lot of detail). And tonight was apparently about truth. Truth was... He _wanted_ it. It was just sex, right? With Peter. Yeah, he could do that. Why not?

Before he could change his mind, Charley stood and began quickly taking off his clothes.

Moments later, he was outside Peter’s bedroom, naked as Peter had been, gently pushing open the door. The heavy shades were drawn against the sun, but some light seeped in around their edges, just illuminating Peter, half under the covers, his back turned to the door.

“Peter?” Charley called softly, in case he was already asleep.

Peter flipped over quickly in a loud squeak of bedsprings. “I knew you’d—” He stopped as he saw Charley, wearing nothing but a nervous smile. “Oh, Charley.”

“I’ll try anything,” he said, proud his voice didn’t waver. “Like a great date, right?”

“You’re not drunk, though,” Peter pointed out.

“No.” They’d barely begun drinking when Peter had started asking questions and then… stripping.

“Come here.”

Charley tried not to run to the bed.

It was somehow fitting that his first real kiss with Peter would be while they were both naked. Legs entwined like their tongues, lips and hands, and cocks rubbing, pressing, pushing, all a blinding mess of taste and feel and it should have been weird, but it was nothing but _so damn good_.

“What do you want?” Peter asked breathlessly when they pulled apart.

“ _Everything_ ,” he said without thinking, because thinking was a little difficult right now.

“God kid,” Peter laughed. “You're adorable.”

Charley balked at that. “Don't do that,” he said. Peter knew better than anyone, he wasn’t a fucking kid. “Don't call me cute when I'm naked and hard in your bed.”

“You're right,” Peter said, and then pushed him onto his back. “Please accept my apology.”

“What apolo—” His words were cut off by a brief yelp as a warm, wet mouth descended on his cock.

Charley gasped, then bit his lip to keep from moaning too loudly, or babbling ridiculously. He gripped the sheets, but then, needing to touch, he thrust his hands into Peter’s hair as he tried _not_ to thrust into his mouth. He watched in the dim light, amazed that this was happening, trying to concentrate on that and not how fucking awesome it felt (because he absolutely knew Peter would give him shit for coming so fast) as Peter’s head bobbed up and down, sucking and then a swirl of tongue, and then taking him all the way down and _Jesus, fuck!_

He was coming, suddenly and hard, and he should have warned him, right? and he wasn’t biting his lip anymore, and he’d yelled something and it was…

“Oh my god, I love you!”

 _Oh no_. He groaned, coming to his senses as Peter pulled away. The bastard was giggling at him.

“Is that the truth?” Peter asked, wiping his mouth and crawling back up the bed.

“Shut up.” Charley threw an arm over his eyes to hide his embarrassment.

“I knew you fancied me. You going to buy me chocolates?” Peter teased.

“Dude. Shut up.”

“I like the ones with—”

Charley cut him off, pushing him onto his back and shutting him up with another rough, messy kiss. He tasted himself and he found he didn’t care, because there was smoke and melon and _Peter_ there too, and it was fucking _brilliant_.

“All right. Fuck the chocolates then,” Peter panted when Charley pulled back for air. The illusionist smoothly wriggled from beneath him to retrieve some things from his bedside drawer before pushing them into Charley’s hands. “Ready for your next dare?”

 

FIN


End file.
